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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027004">Happier</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbaby/pseuds/sapphicbaby'>sapphicbaby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Discord: Bellamione Coven, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Hogwarts AU, Song fic but not really, hermione is not as gryffindor as we hoped, mentions of violence but not that much, there's heartbreak but don't worry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:27:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbaby/pseuds/sapphicbaby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all in Bellatrix's eyes.<br/>Proud, determined, gloating, angry, sad, lost, passionate, loving eyes.<br/>But Hermione couldn't see her eyes anymore.<br/>Because Bellatrix was walking down the aisle, away from her and into the waiting arms of her soon to be husband. </p><p>"Cause baby, you look happier, you do<br/>My friends told me one day I'll feel it too<br/>And until then I'll smile to hide the truth<br/>But I know I was happier with you"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Roma wasn't built in a day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The song is Happier by Ed Sheeran and that all started with a SwanQueen edit that broke my heart.</p><p>This was supposed to be a three-shot but that probably will change (maybe not, I don't even know). The rating might change too but I'm not too sure I'm there yet. </p><p>First chapters is some snippets from 1st year to 5th year so you can get a grasp at their relationship; 6th year and 7th year are where it's at. </p><p>Without further ado, let's buckle up for this ride.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>FIRST YEAR</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of happy - and loud - chatting came to a halt when Professor Snape entered the classroom. His eyes searched roamed over the students, a look of disdain etched on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Wiggenweld Potion. Can any of you tell me what is it for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two hands shot up at that, and, merely a second after, two heads jerked to the side to assess the other. This was the first Slytherin-Gryffindor class of the year, and also the first time where more than one hand had been raised to answer a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both girls had uncontrollable hair, but the similarities ended at that. While one was as dark as a winter storm, with dark hair, dark eyes and borderline unhealthy pale skin, the other was the depiction of summer, with her tan skin, light brown hair and warm eyes. Their body language matched their appearance. Where the Gryffindor was all straight spine and practically jumping out of her seat with eagerness, the Slytherin leaned back on the chair, legs apart, daring the Professor to call upon her. And so he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Black?” Hermione frowned. She had heard all about Snape's Slytherin bias and was now experiencing it first hand, she thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It can be used as a healing potion for minor injuries, but there are spells that work better for that than this potion. Its true purpose is basically acting like an antidote for the Draught of Living Death.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very well. 10 points to Slytherin. And does anyone risk a guess on why we are learning the Wiggenweld first? Miss Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione hadn’t been quite ready for the question for the first time in the week, for her eyes had been focused on the Black girl, who was lazily writing something on the parchment, a slight smile gracing her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hum, well, if we are making a dangerous potion like the Draught which puts the person in, well, in a coma, learning how to counter it first would be the safe thing to do, I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guess?” -- The Professor asked. Some of the Slytherins chuckled, and a look of the corner of her eye told her that Black sported a smirk on her face. The brunette blushed. “That is not incorrect, Miss Granger, but next time, if you’re not sure of the answer, do not respond to the question. You either know, or you don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The muggleborn kept her head low and didn’t look at the Slytherin girl for the rest of the class, a task that, for some strange reason, required a lot of effort on her part.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>SECOND YEAR</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frantically flipping the pages of one of the many books she had scattered on the library desk, Hermione finally stumbled upon something that looked promising in a Muggle Studies textbook. Muggle Studies class would only start in third year, but it was something about the muggle world - where she was raised- that she didn’t know and that had spiked her curiosity. It explained all about how Greek muggle mythology was really what was left of a time in which muggles and wizards lived in peace with each other, and wizards were considered beings of wisdom and power. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Medusa myth takes inspiration on the Basilisk, a magical beast who is known for killing with just a look.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It had to be something similar, something that harms people without coming into contact with them, since none of the victims showed any signs of having been attacked physically. But the victims were all petrified, none of them were dead…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loud bang interrupted her thoughts. Bellatrix Black dropped two heavy tomes in the desk and sat herself just a couple spots away from Hermione. The brunette looked around: it was the weekend and only a couple Ravenclaws occupied the library, so there were plenty of other seats for the dark-haired witch to take. Their relationship wasn’t the best, to put it lightly. The Gryffindor thought the pureblood to be bigoted and rude, and something about her laid back attitude in the face of even the biggest challenges they were presented with in classes made Hermione’s blood boil. It didn’t help that the girl hanged out with Lucius Malfoy and his crew who were set on making the muggleborn’s life hell for being a “mudblood know-it-all”. Bellatrix herself didn’t actively bully her, but she was only too happy to sit and watch the taunts, which made their rivalry in classes personal for the Golden Girl. It wasn’t just about proving herself as a student, it was about proving that muggleborns were just as capable as purebloods, even with the advantage that those who were raised in the Wizarding World had, for they had been all too familiar with a world in which muggleborns were thrown into without any warning or preparation at 11 years old. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other witch noticed the stare of the brunette and cocked an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, muddy? You look like you just saw yourself in a mirror.” Hermione was about to tell her to sod off when something clicked on her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A mirror!” - The other girl looked convinced that she had gone batshit crazy, but the bookworm paid her no mind. Sprinting to her feet, she spotted a book called Most Macabre Monstruosities in the Care of Magical Creatures section, and there it was on page 230. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Looking directly in the eyes of a Basilisk means immediate death, but seeing only its reflex will render you paralyzed.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had to find Harry! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>THIRD YEAR</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s a werewolf, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione stopped on her track, almost at the classroom door, and turned around to look at the pureblood, who was calmly placing her things back on her bag. They were just leaving the Defense Against Dark Arts class and it was almost dinner time. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, so she wasn’t really in the mood for the other girl’s provocations. If she was truly smart she would ignore her and go on her way, but Hermione had quickly found out she wasn’t physically capable of ignoring the dark-haired witch. Her life would be so much easier if she was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you talking about, Black?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, potty mouth much, muddy?” Hermione rolled her eyes and started walking again. “Lupin is. Don’t you find it weird that his Boggart is the full moon?” The Gryffindor did find it strange, but had decided not to dwell on it - Dumbledore would never knowingly hire someone that could hurt the students, would he? He did hire Lockhart and Quirrel, but he didn’t know, did he? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about it? Maybe he had a bad experience at nighttime or something.” The argument sounded weak even to her ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. That’s why he’s not at dinner for at least a week every month. I know you’re smarter than that, Granger.” Having finished with collecting her stuff, the Slytherin now stand 2 feet from the brunette, a playful glimmer in her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was the first time Bellatrix had given her anything even resembling a compliment, and Hermione was a bit taken aback, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying to have the last word. Bellatrix had always given good, but the muggleborn had learned that, if she bit back, eventually the Slytherin would only smirk at her and be on her way. In her first year she would really get bothered and hurt, but over the last year she realized their banter actually kept her on her toes and that she kind of missed it over the summer - not that she would ever admit that out loud. It was more than that if she was being completely honest. Bellatrix challenged her like no one else could, both in theoretical matters and magical ability. They were always measuring themselves against each other, and that made Hermione’s school years more interesting, and, why not, exciting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re spending an awful lot of time observing Professor Lupin, Black. Got a crush? Never pegged you as someone who likes older men, but hey, to each their own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pureblood looked at her with an incredulous look for a second, and then bust out laughing. Hermione always liked her laugh. It was raspy and rich. Too bad it was usually in response to the Gryffindor’s humiliation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“At least I like men.” Still laughing, Bellatrix went on her way, leaving a dumbfounded Hermione behind. What was that crazy witch talking about? She was thirteen! Of course she wouldn’t be drooling over boys yet, that was completely normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night, while she read in bed, she heard Lavender’s loud giggles when she entered the room with Parvati. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Hermione! Who’s hottest: Cedric Diggory or Oliver Wood?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the afternoon, when most people had been hanging out in the sun, Fred had dared some of his classmates to jump on the black lake and find the window to Snape’s private rooms. None of them got even close, for the Giant Squid was in a particularly playful mood that day, but it quickly turned into a shirtless athletic skill competition. Hermione just felt annoyed that the calm and quiet had been ruined by the cheer and laughs, and went up to the library to finish her homework. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the bookworm just looked confused, Parvati gave her a weak smile. “Nevermind. C’mon, Lavender, she’s trying to read!”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>FOURTH YEAR</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Three Broomsticks was packed. It was snowing heavily that day, making the cozy and warm environment even more attractive to the students visiting Hogsmeade. Many of them were using the opportunity to fraternize with the other two schools. Shivering, Hermione made her way through the tables and found her friends near the fireplace. But before she could sit down, she heard Ginny’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Mione! Come with me to order another round of butterbeer? We’ve been trying to call Madam Rosmerta but this place is too crowded!” Hermione didn’t really want to, but she was nothing if not helpful, therefore, she complied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made her way to the counter, spotting Fleur Delacour with some Ravenclaws. The quarter-veela looked her way and smiling. Most of her friends, including the Weasley at her side, who emitted a growling sound in spotting the blonde, disliked the Beauxbatons students, especially the school’s champion. Disliked wasn’t the right word, Hermione thought to herself, they were jealous of her, but she would never say such a thing out loud for it would grant herself a speech about how the girl was conceited, annoying and nosy. For her part, the Golden Girl actually the french girl to be smart, fun and obviously talented, and wasn’t in the slight jealous of the attention she received from boys: she was beautiful, it was only natural. They hadn’t interacted all that much in private, but they exchanged pleasantries whenever Hermione set to help Harry in the competition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, are you and Potter a thing now?” The voice she knew all to well said behind. The muggleborn turned to look at the girl. Bellatrix had her arms crossed and an annoyed expression, but her eyes looked curious… and something else. Behind her, Hermione could see her gang (how she thought of Bellatrix’s friends in her mind) and their newest addition, Rodolphus Lestrange, a 5th year who was so clearly infatuated with the Black heir that it was pitiful in the brunette’s eye. Didn’t he know that Bellatrix was a force of nature that could not and would not be contained?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Black?” Ginny said in an annoyed tone, glaring at the other witch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing of your business, ginger. I only talk to people who have functioning brain cells, and that’s clearly not the case for you.” The Weasley youngest seemed about to reply, an ugly scowl on her face, when Madam Rosmerta asked for her order, making her turn around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said I didn’t like men?” The bookworm answered, propping her elbows on the counter in a much-practiced air of nonchalance made to mimick the pureblood’s usual stance. It was a funny situation for everyone familiar with the behavior of the two girls. Usually, the Slytherin would be the one with the lazy smile and “nothing you say can reach me because you’re oh so below me” and Harry Potter’s best friend would be the one looking pissed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to like him to be with him. Take Pansy, for example. She would much rather, ahem, enjoy the company of Astoria than Zabini’s, but her parents want her to marry him, or any other pureblood male to be honest.” They looked at the couple, Pansy seated on his lap with his arms hugging her waist while they talked to their classmates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The same way I know about you.” Hermione scoffed. She didn’t know shit about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And how exactly is that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pureblood smirked and leaned closer, almost whispering in her ear. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Takes one to know one”. With that, she grabbed the butterbeer Madam Rosmerta had just set in the counter and went off to her friends and boy toy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! That was mine!” Her redheaded friended, who had been distracted talking to Dean Thomas, yelled. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>FIFTH YEAR</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was walking towards the Room of Requirement, not paying much attention while going over the spells they were going to practice that day. If she had been more attentive, she would have heard the frantic steps echoing in the empty hallway, but as it was, she only felt the impact when a body collided with hers, sending them both to the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ouch!” When she looked to see who had been in such a hurry and spotted curly, dark and unruly hair, she thought to herself </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Typical”</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But one look at the girl’s face sent any thoughts of telling her off off her mind. She had a split lip, her eye had a purplish tint to it and she was pale as a corpse but drops of sweat were running from her forehead to her cheeks. One quick look to her body revealed robes that, while clearly expensive and fitted just for the girl, looked rumpled and her pantyhose were ripped on the knees. The scariest part was the frenzied look on her eyes, like she wasn’t capable of registering what was happening properly. The Slytherin quickly rose to her feet and started to walk away without so much as a word, be it an apology or a nasty comment, usually the latter. Hermione, without thinking about it properly, grabbed her arm on her eyes</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Looking directly on the eyes of her rival, who stared straight back at her with that unseeing eyes, and lifting herself up from the floor without breaking eye contact, she saw something she had never seen before. The other witches usually black as the night eyes started shining with unshed tears. Bellatrix never cried. Not in dueling club when Hermione had stricken her with a nasty stinging hex that got her a two day stay on the infirmary. Not when Slytherin lost the last Quidditch game of the year because she fell off her broom after getting hit by a bludger, causing enough of a distraction that no one noticed Harry catching the snitch. Not even when her little sister, Andy, whom she was really close to, called her deranged in front of the whole school after she caught the middle Black with a muggleborn named Ted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Golden Girl didn’t know what to say. So, she did what Harry always did when she was feeling upset, be it because the Slytherins where being particularly mean that day or because Snape had critiqued her work and compared her to her pureblood rival. She tentatively put her arms around the girl, who only resisted for a moment before surrendering. She felt warm tears on her neck, but she didn’t move. They didn’t move for a good while, until the Black heir untangled herself and, leaning on the wall, let herself slide to the floor. With a second of hesitation, Hermione did the same. She could feel the other witch struggling to speak. When she did, it was in a low and weak voice so different from the rich and confident tone she was so used to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Umbridge… She caught me teaching Andy and Narcissa to duel. We usually do it in the forest, but it was raining too much today, so we used an empty classroom. I used spells to make sure no one could hear us, but someone must have tipped her off. I begged her to not do anything to my sisters, but she took us all. So I tried to distract her and Bombard’ed one of the chandeliers. She dragged me to her office and called my father. He wasn’t very happy about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bookworm had never met Cygnus Black, but she had heard the rumors. Everyone had. About why Bellatrix was never seen in anything other than stuffy long-sleeved dresses even in the hottest of days. Even her Yule’s Ball attire, while it still made Hermione blush to even think about - for it showed an impressive amount of cleavage from a triangular cut out in the torso and had a deep split that went all the way to just below her hip - had a high neckline and was accompanied by long satin gloves. But Narcissa and Andy seemed way more comfortable with showing skin, so she never knew anything for sure until now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again, Hermione didn’t know what to say. She placed her hand softly on top of the dark-haired girl’s one and they stayed like this until the sound of footsteps was heard, making them split up and go to opposite directions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, Hermione lied still in her bed, eyes closed, but she was as far from sleep as one could be. Her mind was racing with thoughts, replaying the scene from the evening, the broken look on the face of her rival, the fact that she was so fragile as to accept the comfort of the one she disliked the most. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she enters the Great Hall for breakfast and her eyes go searching the Slytherin table, she fully expects to be met with rage. It would be just characteristic for the girl, to hate anyone who was able to see her as anything other than the confident and powerful badass she made sure to play every day of her life. Because Hermione was just that. The experience in the dark hallway had been the proof that she needed to come to that conclusion, that the dark-haired girl’s stance was mostly a character she played. She had noticed things before: how the girl sometimes looked detached when talking to her closest friends, like she was somewhere else completely; how sometimes, even in the most heated of arguments with the Golden Girl she mostly just seemed tired; how she would, sometimes, start laughing so freely in the middle of said arguments. She had noticed, but she hadn’t been able to piece it together until that moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when she finally finds the one she’s looking for, she’s met with a tentative smile instead, one that vanishes as soon as Rodolphus turns to talk to her because it was for the Gryffindor and just for her, and Hermione dares to hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the next day brings Marietta Edgecombe’s betrayal and The Department of Mysteries, and any hope she had vanishes when she recognizes Cygnus and Druella among the Death Eaters in the Ministry. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIXTH YEAR</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop it, Harry!” She said, laughing so much her stomach hurt. She had stopped by her friends’ cabin while on her way to the Prefect Carriage. They were playing with some Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes trick wands, and the look at Neville’s face when he opened the door to find Harry aiming a wand at him, only for it to turn into a rubber chicken, was priceless. Her summer holidays had been amazing so far, even with the return of Voldemort looming over their heads, for she got to hang out with all the people she truly cared about.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, all except one”</span>
  </em>
  <b>,</b>
  <span> she thought with a bitter note. She hadn’t seen Bellatrix all summer, but why would she? They had nothing in common, their lives as different as the day and night, but that was not the point. The point is that she wished she had. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Even if her parents are bloody murderers.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That realization didn’t come easily to Hermione. For a while, she felt disappointed, angry, and betrayed, even if maybe their relationship was more in her head than anything and she had nothing to feel betrayed about. When Harry asked what was wrong, she reluctantly told him. Not everything, she couldn’t do that yet, maybe never, but enough that he was able to help her realize that Bellatrix wasn’t her parents. </span>
  <span>He pointed out </span>
  <span>that she hadn’t called her a mudblood since fourth year, and she would even exchange pleasantries with her sister’s muggleborn boyfriend. Plus, Harry didn’t know that, but Bellatrix was seemingly the one that suffered the most with her parents’ rage and hatred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she got to the Prefect Carriage, although everyone else was pretty much there, the witch was the first person she noticed. She didn’t expect the girl to become a prefect, for she wasn’t the most well behaved of them all, but neither were Hermione and Ron, to be honest. Hermione was late, but it didn’t seem like she had missed anything important, for the Black heir was laughing with the other Slytherin prefect and the Head Girl, a Ravenclaw. Hermione’s memory didn’t do her smile justice. But when the Golden Girl opened the door to the compartment, the pureblood’s smile fell.</span>
</p><p>---------</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t interacted much more than that on the train ride, for the Head Boy and Girl had quickly given them their assignments and sent them on their way, so Hermione felt anxious. When they were done with the helping the first years get in the boats with Hagrid, a task that took way longer than it had to when a girl fell in the water, she touched the Slytherin’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I talk to you?” Bellatrix didn’t look at her, she just stared at the hand on her arm like it was some sort of mythical creature. “Bellatrix?” In hearing her name, the other girl snapped from her trance and ripped her arm from the grasp of the Gryffindor, walking away without answering. The bookworm trailed behind her, her mood souring. “No, you don’t get to ignore me after all that! </span>
  <span>Bellatrix! Bellatrix!” At that point, they had missed the last carriage, so it was just them in the dark path that led to the castle, and Hermione was practically having to chase the girl that walked in quick steps like she was about to start running. She wasn’t afraid of the dark - maybe she would be more if she wasn’t a witch - but something about almost running in the middle of woods made her uneasy and she longed for the witch to just slow down and listen to her like a normal person would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, ok? I know! You don’t have to tell me, Ginny Weasley made sure that I know, sou you don’t have to rub it in my face.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What are you talking about? What does Ginny have anything to do with us?” The dark-haired girl stopped abruptly on her track, looking at the brunette with an incredulous expression. “Us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, us! What the fuck do you think I’m chasing you for?” She normally didn’t swear at loud, although she did it quite a lot in her mind, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Department of Mysteries. I know my parents were there.” Hermione expected the girl to know about it, but she didn’t expect Ginny to be the one that told her. She didn’t have the right, she didn’t even know the girl or what her life was like.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Do you?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>a part of her mind said, but she pushed it aside and focused on the present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you’re running from me?" They were walking at a slower pace now, and the Slytherin seemed resigned to having that conversation. “I wasn’t running from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, technically not, but it did seem like it. Although I’m not quite sure what speed counts at running, I’m not very familiar with track competition rules. Is that even a thing in the Wizarding World?” Bellatrix could tell the witch was feeling anxious. She would always start rambling about random things when she was. She remembered one of the few times they worked together on an assignment: the girl couldn’t stop talking for a second; at first, she thought it to be due to her trying to prove that she was smarter than the pureblood, but the subject of her monologue changed from its initial topic (why focusing on cursed wounds would grant them a better grade because they could interview someone with hands-on experience on the topic -- that someone being Euphemia Potter, Harry’s grandmother and, of course, they could also go to Madam Pomfrey because it wouldn’t hurt to have a second source) to “did you know that Madam Pomfrey was actually the daughter of a muggle doctor and had even gone to muggle med school?” to what she would do if she ever got the opportunity to go to muggle university and Bellatrix finally realized she was just nervous. The thought made her smile, and Hermione had looked at her confused for a second before finally realizing she had been talking non-stop for almost twenty minutes. For some reason, knowing the muggleborn cared enough to chase her and still be nervous about the conversation convinced her a little bit that she wasn’t there to throw accusations on her face like the Weasley girl did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Gryffindor finally caught herself and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going to lie. For a while, that was all I could think about when I thought about you." She started, looking at her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've been thinking about me?" Bellatrix tried to ease the mood with a joke, but she was nervous herself and it felt strained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, obviously. But Harry helped me realize…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" The boy wasn't much of a fan of hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... That I owed you at least a conversation before I jumped to any conclusions. I can't say it doesn't bother me. I'm a muggleborn and there's no changing that. I guess what I'm trying to say is… I hope you don't share the same beliefs of your parents."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had never discussed where Bellatrix stood in pureblood supremacy. First, it was a given, but then it turned into something that was just there but wasn't to be mentioned. It seemed now was the time they would finally get that out of the way, for better or for worse. They walked a bit in silence before the dark-haired witch started talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Listen, you don't know what is like to be raised in the Most Ancient House of Black as the first-born, and to be a girl on top of that." Bellatrix wasn't looking at her, but she could feel Hermione's surprise that she was willing to talk about her home life. "There's no point trying to hide this from you anymore, so I will try to… Enlighten you. My father is a very powerful man who couldn't make a single male heir. I know enough of Muggle Biology to - don't look at me like that, I have the right to be curious about things.. Anyways, I know enough to know that's his fault, but he doesn't because he wouldn't touch anything Muggle with a ten feet pole. So he blamed mother. I have never personally seen him doing anything to her, but I guess it started right after Narcissa was born. Mother became cold, detached, and I think it got to a point where she didn't care what he did anymore, so, he turned to me. Again, I don't know anything for sure, but I've had a lot of time to think about it. At first I wanted to run away, but I knew I couldn't abandon my sisters. So I made sure they wouldn't ever have to face my father's wrath. Whenever one of them would do so much as sneeze in an unladylike manner, I would be there to distract him. Andromeda got a low grade? I charmed the neighbors dogs to chase him and stood in the fence laughing. Narcissa accidentally spilled tea at a dinner party? I let myself be caught making out with the host's brother." She laughed a bit at that, startling Hermione, who had a look of pure concentration on her face. You could hear the engines turning in her head. "Eventually just challenging him wasn't enough, so I started challenging his beliefs. I'd put muggle books in places I knew he would find, but it would still seem like I did try to hide them. I'd take walks in Muggle streets and be extremely nice to people just so they would greet me when I was walking that same street with my father. Eventually, I started to notice little things that didn't make sense. How is it that muggles live lives not unlike our own if they don’t have magic? How did my neighbor have so much money if he was so below us? Things like that. So I started reading those books that I had bought just to enrage my father. Most of them were nonsense love stories. But some were… Good. I'm fond of Moreno and Foucault, particularly. Don't get me wrong, I still don't get muggleborns. How can you just be born with magic to a couple without it? Where does it come from? Regardless, I don't understand much about my own magic either. Is it an infinite source? Is it in our soul or our DNA? It's all just very confusing. So I decided to simply not care."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the Golden Girl turn to be quiet for a long time. It wasn't until they were almost at Hogwarts' gates that she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can definitely live with that." It wasn't anything much, it wasn't the promise of long-lasting friendship, but the fondness in her tone said what she couldn't say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There you are, girls! I was about to send someone looking for you! Miss Granger, I need your help with a first-year. Miss Black, please go join your classmates in the Slytherin table, the Sorting will start shortly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It turns out it was the same first-year girl that had fallen in the lake. She was a scared muggleborn that had become even more terrified after her fall when she felt herself being pulled up by the Giant Squid. Hermione said some reassuring words to her, talking a bit about her experience as a first-year and how she took it upon her to learn everything she could about that world that was so new for her. The girl didn't seem all that interested in books, but the talk was sufficient to calm her down, and so the Sorting began.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>------------------</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix had filled two sheets of parchment with scribbles in an attempt to solve an Arithmancy chart. She was always one to prefer writing her line of thinking down when doing her homework, for that gave her a clearer view of the subject and made it easy to connect things. Arithmancy was the most challenging subject for her. Despite that (or perhaps because of that) she enjoyed it quite a bit. The library was starting to empty on the Friday night. The Quidditch game on the next day would start early and it would warrant at least two parties, one for consolation and one for celebrating. For her part, she never could sleep properly before a game, and focusing on her work helped her fight off the anxiety. They would be facing Ravenclaw, the previously unassuming team that had quickly improved with a new captain and some new teammates. If they won, they would be on the lead. If Slytherin won, they would still have to win against Gryffindor to get the lead, so the pressure as on. In her position as the seeker, it was almost always up to her to define the game. She had started as a beater, as the position did match her personality quite a bit. But the team's seeker graduated in her fifth year and no one quite talented had tried for the position, all the teammates had to try. In the end, her sharp focus, attention to detail, and ability to stay in the broom no matter what - well, except for that one time, but Andromeda stunts had the power to distract her like nothing else - had granted her the position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of slow, tentative steps reached her ears, and she turned her head to glare at the intruder and was met with messy brown hair behind a pile of books. "Do you mind?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing, the pureblood rose to her feet to help the girl set her books on the table. She muttered a thanks and got right into her work without another word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you working on?" They had been working in silence for a couple of hours before Hermione spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellatrix hesitated. "It's just something I'm working on about facilitating exchange programs amongst magical schools all over the world, not just in western Europe. It's silly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not at all! I've always valued the power of experiencing life outside your shell. I'd be a completely different person if I hadn't come to Hogwarts."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you think so? You have always been so… you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>" I know for a fact!" The bookworm looked to the sides, scanning for any listening ears, and then spoke in a whisper. "I spent a bit of my summer in Harry's house. His grandmother allowed us to drink a drop of the Outravida potion she was brewing".</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The What If potion?!" Bellatrix wasn't usually loud unless she wanted to. She had learned the power of controlling her tone of voice and changing it to match her wills. But she practically yelled the sentence, causing Hermione's eyes to widen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shhhhhh! It was just a drop. It only gave us glimpses at another life. Nothing major, but… It wasn't that much of a happy life. I would always live with the feeling that I had missed out on the biggest opportunity of my life. I would still get burst of magic but would never learn to control it. I don't think I had any friends." The potion was an extremely regulated one. It wasn't forbidden, but it was highly addictive. It provided the user with dreams about a reality in which he made one choice different. The person would have to really focus on the choice and then go to sleep in the moonlight, otherwise it wouldn't work. Some people became obsessed with changing all their choices to see all the different realities they could, and spent more time sleeping than awake. Only licensed mediwizards and potion masters were allowed to brew it. Granger's eyes clouded a bit talking about her other life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I'm glad you chose to come." That made the other witch smile, and they were back to their papers. Occasionally, Hermione would ask Bellatrix to answer some of her doubts. Some seemed like legit questions, but others were so clearly an attempt to strike a conversation that Bellatrix laughed at the not-that-socially-skilled girl, but indulged her nonetheless. They started with light homework talk, then eventually delved into the most recent article published in Transfiguration Today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It took me a while to understand why it mattered at all. Honestly, the article was a bit of a mess and it didn’t explain things clearly, but if it’s true, then it changes everything.”  They had both moved on to simpler tasks now and were reviewing the ingredients they would need for their Potion projects. The assignment was supposed to give the student a feel of what it was like to brew a potion in real life, away from the protection spells impregnated in the walls of the classrooms. They were supposed to choose an easier and relatively safe project, but at that point, Bellatrix had brewed quite a few potions on her own so she chose a more difficult approach. She didn’t know if the same was true for Hermione or if she was just challenging herself. “Maybe I should offer her some help. She could seriously injure herself and nobody would be there to help her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! And it’s such a subtle detail!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation kept going until the clock hit 1 am. They were both prefects so no one bothered them with the curfew, but they did need to sleep at some point, so they packed up and went on their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s where we split.” She paused for a second and playfully rolled her eyes. “Listen, if you want any help with your potions assignment, or just someone to be there in case you blow yourself up, hit me up. I have a bit of experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was surprised. Up to this point, she had been the one to seek Bellatrix out and try to engage in conversation. This time, the Slytherin was willingly offering to spend time with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I would lo… Like to. Thanks.” It seemed that the exchange had come to an end, so they parted ways. It wasn’t until Bellatrix was almost on the bottom of the stairs leading to the dungeons that she heard it. “Good luck in the game!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry if it feels odd that Bellatrix spilled the beans about Cygnus that fast, but it isn't the main conflict in this fic (surprise?). It will make sense later, I promise! Also, I didn't have a single clue about how to make up the name of a potion so I went with Portuguese words lol let's just pretend it was created here in Brazil</p><p>Next chapter will feature a bit more of the other characters now that their relationship is on the right track!</p><p>Thanks for sticking around, see you in a bit!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some things are obviously different, some might be confusing since I mixed a lot of characters up. Basically, all of our canon  Death Eaters (and Andromeda) are aged down (therefore not Death Eaters... yet) except for Snape and all the others are the same. Voldemort is getting powerful again after being reborn, but it's a muuuuch slower process. Dumbledore still doesn't know much about the Horcruxes and he doesn't die.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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